


Infidel

by QueenUnderTheMountain (Rinchen)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Christian!Bilbo, Crusades, Forbidden Love, Gen, M/M, Muslim!Thorin, based on the awesome Crusaders AU by closetshipping, mean political plots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 04:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2137077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinchen/pseuds/QueenUnderTheMountain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Did we lose what made us human in this madness, stranger?"</p><p>The Holy Lands. Bilbo finds a severly wounded soldier on a battlefield and decides to tend to his injuries, although they stand on different sides and don't speak each others language. Little does Bilbo know that he will be pulled into a world of intrigues and fights for power that go beyond religious beliefs and that he will find friendship and love in the darkness of the desert in a foreign land.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the [ Crusaders AU](http://loyalty-honour-a-willing-heart.tumblr.com/tagged/Crusaders-AU-Art/) by [ closetshipping](http://closetshipping.tumblr.com/). Thank you for letting me write it, dear :)

Cries. Cries were all he could remember as he opened his eyes. First, he couldn't see anything but as soon as he was able to remove the fabric around him (a flag, he remembered) he looked directly into the bright light of a setting sun. He felt something heavy on his legs ans tried to struggle it away. After what seemed an eternity he was able to free himself and stood up, standing on wobbly legs. The thing on his legs was his horse, the good old Myrtle, which had served him loyally since he got her at his tenth birthday. He put the flag solemnly over Myrtle, spoke a short prayer for her, crossed himself and then walked away, tears in his eyes.

He didn't care that his shining white tabard he was so proud of was now stained with blood and dirt, that his boots were mostly ruined and that his helmet was gone. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to leave this godforsaken land and go home. To his books and his garden. That's were he'd belong.

* * *

The young man stumbled over the battlefield, holding his head. He felt nauseous, tired and so very, very empty. The battle had been horrible and the losses were great on both sides. Bilbo had woken mere minutes ago, buried under his horse and the flag he had been carrying and his head tingling from hurt. Something must have hit his head and made him fall from his horse who now would be rotting away in a foreign land, so far away from his home. Bilbo wondered if  _he_ would ever made his way home. His fellow soldiers were long gone or dead. He himself had fled panicked the battle. How long he was laying unconscious under his horse, he could not tell but the battlefield was mostly cleared and no living person was to be seen.

Not entirely sure about where he was going, Bilbo didn't watch his way and fell over something. He groaned as he lifted himself up and leaned against a big stone next to him. Then he closed his eyes and breathed the sickness away. As he opened them again and looked a bit to the side he screamed.

Next to him laid a body, a very motionless body. Shocked he crawled backwards but was stopped by the stone he rested to earlier. Bilbo breathed to not faint. He was not made for battle. All the blood and screams and dead – he couldn't stand it. If he ever saw Gandalf again the man would have to hear a piece from Bilbo.

Carefully he stood up, ready to leave the place as fast as he stumbled upon it. Then he saw it. The man he thought dead was breathing. Only shallow, but breathing nevertheless. Bilbo wanted to turn around and leave, due to his appearance and armour the wounded man didn't even belong to his side. He was one of those they fought. But then the other one blinked and opened his eyes. Firstly, his eyes widened with surprise which quickly turned into fear and led to the man trying to lift himself up.

Bilbo shot forward, arm stretched out.”Stop! You will hurt yourself even more as you are.”

“ _Leave me be, infidel! I am to die, return to your home. This is no place for soft beings like you.”_

The man closed his eyes and sighed exhausted. If he was to die out here, he would rather be left alone. He was betrayed by those he thought family, he hadn't seen the signs. He deserved it to die alone and without the blessings of his god, rotting on the fields and denying access to the halls of his forefathers.

“I have no idea what you were saying, but I will stay with you.” Bilbo sat down, back against the stone, a calming presence, a source of warmth in the cooling air of the desert. He didn't know why he was doing it, but he began to stroke over the head of the stranger, eventually entangling the bloody strands.

“If you have to die, you don't have to be alone.” Bilbo whispered. “And if I have to die, I will not be alone either.” He shifted a bit, taking in the form of the wounded man. He was tall, taller than Bilbo, and had long, floating, raven black hair. A neatly cropped beard rounded his face, letting it seem warm and friendly, even now as the face was pained and dirty.

He silently comforted the man with his soft touches, if the state he was in was any indication. He seemed calm, his features softened an his breath evened. Bilbo smiled sadly at him.

“Did we lose what made us human in this madness, stranger? When did we allow evil to become stronger than us?” A tear fell from his cheeks and landed on the other man's forehead. He whipped it away, leaned against the stone in his back and looked up to the darkening sky.

“Dear god in heaven. Please bring an end to this madness. Please let both sides give up on this war and let them exist in peace. You are a god of peace, aren't you? So please, please make an end to this. And please make my death quick. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory for ever and ever. Amen.” 

He sobbed and closed his eyes, trying to find sleep. If he was to die, then when he was asleep. Or perhaps a wild animal would find pity and eat him in his sleep. Tears ran from his eyes as he shifted against the stone, careful not to disturb the muslim stranger he was trying to comfort.

“Well met, stranger. Well met. I will see you in heaven.” Before he fell asleep Bilbo thought he could feel a hand against his cheek, but those where the things fatigue would do to you. He sighed and let sleep surround him.

* * *

The messenger rode at maximum speed into the camp and downright jumped from his horse as he reached the blazoned tent in the centre. He ran into it and bowed deeply to the people inside it, rounding a table and deep in discussion. A woman rose from a seat in the corner where she sat nursing a babe, concern deep on her face.

“Did you find His Majesty? Did you find my brother?”

“Lady Dis.” The messenger bowed again. “We could find neither His Majesty, nor his horse. There was no sign of him.” The woman sobbed.

A man stepped from the desk to the woman, putting an arm around her. “We must assume that he has indeed deserted.”

“But why would he? It is not like him to leave his army and subjects behind. Thorin knows what it means to take responsibility.”

“He didn't want that war, did he, my desert rose?”

“No, he didn't. But ...”

“We couldn't find him and his horse for days. So we must assume that he took his chance and left everything behind. One of my men even told me that he saw him riding to the mountains. It is best we declare him dead so that there will rise no riots. That would be the last we need.”

“But Dain, that would make Fili the next King. He is only five. Too young to take that responsibility.”

“Then it is in my responsibility to rule in his stead. A task I will gladly take over until my son is off age.”

The woman, Dis, sighed. “Then that's how it should be.”

* * *

Bilbo woke up with a jolt as he felt something tousling his hair. He sat up too quickly and had to close his eyes for a moment to hold back the nausea that overcame him. He felt something nuzzling his cheek and turned his head carefully. Next to him stood a horse, gently putting its nose in his face.

“Hello. Who are you?” The horse neighed. “How stupid of me, you can't talk. And I am stupid for talking to a horse.” Bilbo looked around, ignoring the nausea that over came him again. Ironically it mixed with hunger, which was not surprising, for he had not eaten for days. 

Then he remembered the stranger, expecting to find him dead on the ground next to him. But he wasn't. The man looked at Bilbo with deep blue eyes as if asking why he was still here. The horse circled them both, nibbling at left over grass on the battlefield.

“It seems our time isn't over yet, is it, stranger?”

“ _I'm … I'm hungry.”_ His eyes ventured to the horse and widened.

“Indeed.” Bilbo stretched his hand out to the horse. “You are not leaving us, you beautiful thing, are you? Can you do me a favour? My friend here is hurt. Do you allow me to seat him on your back? You will get a reward once we reach a village.” The horse nodded its head as if giving consent. “Good girl. You are a girl? My horse was a girl, you know?” The enthusiasm of the horse made him laugh.

“ _She's my horse.”_ The wounded man tried to sit up, only to hiss in pain and laying back on the ground.

“Whatever you were saying, it is better you don't move that much. You must be hurt severely. It is a wonder you are still alive. Your god must love you a lot.”

“ _The infidel does much talking.”_ He coughed. _“Down, Minty. Down.”_

Bilbo didn't understand what the man was saying but was astounded when the horse laid down. The dark haired man tried to push himself up, but failed again and again. As Bilbo figured out what he was trying to do he hurried to his side, ignoring the wave of nausea that overcame him and helped the other to mount the horse. Then he patted it on the neck and tugged on the reigns to signalize it to stand up. Taking them in his hands he began to lead it away.

“ _What are you doing, infidel? Where are you leading me? I can return home on myself.”_

“I have no idea what you are saying but I am bringing you to an abandoned village I saw on my way here. There I can look after you wounds. You have to gain strength before you can return to your people.” Bilbo looked to his companion and saw that he was moving uneasy on top of the horse. “Easy. Try to sit as comfortable as possible. I know you must hurt and I am sorry to have to torment you but soon it will get better.”

The man grumbled and sat himself a bit more comfortable on the horse, not knowing that Bilbo had suggested just that.

Bilbo led the mare and her freight over the former battlefield, avoiding the left bodies and minding wholes and stones. As they had walked a good while, the village he had seen a good week prior, or so he thought, appeared on the horizon. He smiled and fastened their pace, talking soothingly to the hurt soldier.

“Well, I hope that you let me see to you wounds. I don't know if your religion allows people of another belief to touch them.” He looked up and saw the man stabilizing his head. “Everything well with your head? Here ...” Bilbo took off his cape and rolled it up. “You can put that around your neck. It will help.” He demonstrated what the other should do with the fabric, before handing it to him. The smaller smiled as the other did as he was shown.

As the sun began to set they reached the village. Bilbo drew out his sword as they crossed the border, always aware of eventual danger. He might not be a soldier, but he was able to use a sword and look out for himself.

The young man looked carefully around corners, prepared to strike any attacker that might approach him. As he was sure, that there was nobody left, he looked for a safe house in which he and his companion were able to stay for a while. The reigns of the horse in hand, he searched for a suitable house. After a few peeks into buildings, only to find them occupied by desert foxes or the like, Bilbo found a little house that was perfect. I was hidden in a corner of the village, surrounded by high palm trees and hedges, barely visible to an outsider. He led the horse and its freight into the courtyard and tried to make it sit down. As that wasn't successful after the third try he looked with pleading eyes at the other who understood immediately.

“ _Down, Minty.”_ He said with a tired voice, raspy from the lack of use and water to moisturise his throat. The horse laid down and Bilbo helped him dismounting. 

“Come, let's go into the house. There might be a bed you can rest on. I'll search for tinctures to tend to your wounds.” Bilbo propped the other on his shoulder and helped him walking into the small house.

He gasped as he saw the interior of the house. It was cut generously, the rooms where open and bright. In the centre, from which corridors led to the rooms, stood a fountain, water flowing softly from it.

“Just look at that. It is beautiful. Ah, what do I even say, you may be used to houses like this. In England everything is dark and gloomy.”

“ _You are babbling, infidel. My wounds hurt.”_ The man shifted next to Bilbo and hissed from pain.

“Oh no. You hurt more. I'll bring you to a bedroom. Come.” Bilbo helped him as good as it was able to into a bedroom, which he found after he had opened a few doors and heaved him onto a bed.

“Before you lie down I'll have to undress you, may I?” Bilbo brought his hands near the clasps of the coats and wanted to open it, only to have them slapped away by the other. 

“ _No!”_

“If you want me to tend to your wounds, you must let me undress you. I just want to help you. Please.” Bilbo looked pleadingly at him. “Please.”

“ _Fine, infidel. You may open my coat.”_ He let his hands fall to his sides.

“I don't understand a word you say, but it seems you let me help you.”

Bilbo opened the clasps of the dark blue coat carefully before he cast it from the shoulders of the other one. Then he opened the bow on the fabric around the waist, unwind it and folded it neatly into a square. The next piece of cloth that Bilbo took off was the mail shirt. It clinked heavily as Bilbo put it onto a chair next to the bed. As he turned to the man he had rescued from the battlefield he inhaled sharply. The tunic was soaked with blood.

“Well, that's graver than I thought. Please hold your breath while I remove your shirt. Like that, look.” Bilbo signed how to hold breath and the other one understood. “On three. One, two … three.” In one swift move Bilbo put the tunic over the others head, a silent scream escaping his lips.

“It is well, you did it.” Bilbo smiled at him and rose. “I'll fetch some water to clean them. Don't move.” 

As Bilbo returned the other sat on the bed, striped to his underclothes and bare footed. He rubbed one of his feet which was bruised and rested in a weird angle at the bed.

“You have a broken foot too. You poor thing.” Bilbo sat himself on the bed and began to clean the wounds. “It is over soon. Then I bandage them and you can rest.” He smiled at him and continued his work. After a good while and many grunts twisted with pain Bilbo had cleaned the wounds and bound them in clean linen he had found in the house. Furthermore he had put the foot in a splinter to stabilize it. He would make a salve for it in the morrow.

“I'm done. Hopefully your wounds will get better.”

The other one smiled tiredly at Bilbo.  _“Thank you, infidel.”_

“Bilbo. My name is Bilbo. I have no idea what _infidel_ means, but that is not my name.”

He got a confused look. Bilbo sighed and sat down on the bed again. He pointed at himself repeatedly.

“I. Am. Bilbo. Bilbo.”

The man nodded and pointed at Bilbo.

“ _Beelbow.”_

Bilbo laughed happily. “Yes. Yes. I am Bilbo. See, we can communicate. And what is your name?” Bilbo pointed again at himself. “Bilbo.” And then at the other one. “And you?”

“ _Thorin.”_

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

The day dawned over the little village and began to bask the trees and buildings in its soft orange light. A few birds have already begun to sing and danced from branch to branch.

Bilbo shifted in his bed, turned around, sighing contently, before opening his eyes shocked. Where was he? The last he remembered was that he has woken on dusty ground, death around him. Then it came to him: he had found a Muslim soldier and had brought him into a little village in which they now found shelter in an empty house. He rose carefully, still feeling a little bit sick from the strike on his head as he tried to flee the battle. Bilbo shivered. Under any circumstances he shouldn't dare come near to anybody of his order again. He sighed, straightened his tunic and put on his boots, leaving his tabard, chain mail and bracers on the chair he had laid them onto the night before. They should be cleaned in the next days.

He left the room and padded carefully to the bedroom next door, peeking into it. There on the bed laid the Muslim stranger (Thorin, Bilbo reminded himself, as he was told by the man himself in this warm and calm voice that sounded like melted honey on bread) and tossed and turned in his bed. Bilbo stared. He shouldn't to that. The shorter man hurried to the bed and laid his hand onto the others forehead. It was warm and sticky. As he was about to turn and look if he could find something in the small kitchen he found last night, Thorin opened his eyes.

“ _Are you my angel?”_

“I'm Bilbo. Not _Angel._ Or _Infidel_ as you liked to call me yesterday.” Thorin seemed to smile.

“ _You are my angel, my guardian angel.”_

“Ah, yes. If you say so. I see if I can find something that puts down your fever. And then I will make a soup. I have found a kitchen here.”

Thorin just stared at Bilbo as if he was figuring out what the other was saying, then he nodded carefully.

“ _I will sleep a while. I'm tired.”_ He sank into the cushions, pulled the sheets around himself and closed his eyes. Bilbo smiled subconsciously and went into the kitchen to search for tea leaves to help Thorin's fever to go down. 

* * *

He returned a while later, having found something that looked like willow bark and brewed a strong tea with it. The solution would help the fever to sink and ease the pain Thorin was in.

“Thorin? I have brought you tea.”

Thorin turned at his name and looked at Bilbo. The small man came closer to the bed and set the cup onto a table next to the bed. Then he gestured at the cup, signalising Thorin that he should drink the content.

“Drink this and then I clean your wounds and bind them anew.” Thorin raised the cup to his lips and drank the tea carefully. Bilbo left the room to fetch clean water and new linen to make bandages out of it and returned a good while later with all that into Thorin's room.

“I'm back. Could you please remove your tunic? I want to check on your wounds.” Bilbo seated himself on the bed and pulled lightly on the hem of Thorin's tunic.

“ _No! I can't have an infidel touch me!”_

“I don't want to murder you! I want to look after your wounds. Why are you that stubborn?” He got an idea. “Look, I start with the one on the arm.” Bilbo took Thorin's arm which he immediately retreated from the touch.

“ _No!”_ Thorin shook his head.

“Do they hurt? I only want to help you.” Bilbo looked devastated to Thorin. “If you don't let me clean them, they get get infected and I have to cut your arm!” He took the knife he had brought to cut the linen and made a sawing motion on the arm. “Do you want that?”

“ _Don't amputate my sword arm, please.”_ Thorin looked pleading at Bilbo. _“Fine, I'll let you touch me.”_ He carefully undressed himself and let Bilbo unwrap the bandages, remaining still and stiff, the last not only due to his uptight neck.

“I will wash them now with warm water.” He looked Thorin directly in the eye and smiled at him. “I know you don't understand me but I have learned that when you tend to wounds and speak to the patient it calms them down. And me.” Bilbo laughed a bit under his breath, dropped his gaze and concentrated on the cuts. After he had cleaned them he put a herbal salve he had found in the house onto them and bound them again. Bilbo looked up and directly caught Thorin's eye.

The other man smiled honestly and put one of his hands over Bilbo's.”

“ _Thank you, Beelbow. You truly are an angel. My guardian angel.”_

“Ah, yes. Whatever you were saying, Thorin, but you called me by my name.” Bilbo laughed warmly so that Thorin couldn't help himself but laugh too. He stopped after a few seconds, face twisted with pain. _“That hurts.”_

“Oh no. I am so sorry for that. Lie still.” Bilbo fussed over Thorin and helped him laying down, pulling the blanket over him. He was so devoted to his task the he didn't notice Thorin lifting his arm and stroking an unruly strand of hair out of his forehead. Bilbo only looked up as Thorin laid his hand on his cheeks and caressing it with his finger. The time seemed to stand still and his breath terrifyingly loud as Thorin just looked at him with this blue blue eyes. Bilbo swallowed and cast down the sudden urge to kiss those promising lips. 

He jumped to his feet, stumbled over them and hurried to gather the utensils he had brought with him.

“I … I need to make something to eat for you … You have to gather strength again.” With that Bilbo fled the room. As he had reached the kitchen, he leant against the wall, breathing deeply and calming himself down. What had come over him? Why had he suddenly wanted to kiss a man he had rescued from a battlefield. A man nonetheless. A Muslim man. He had wanted to kiss a man. Bilbo put his hand over his mouth and sobbed. What was this land doing to him? He was raised in Christian belief. And in his belief no man kissed, or even laid with, another man. It was forbidden and you would go to hell for that.

Unbeknownst to Bilbo, Thorin had similar thoughts that troubled his mind. Why did this Christian confuse his mind the way he did? Why did he so desperately want to be touched by him but yet he wasn't allowed to, due to his religion. He may have been a little feverish, but he absolutely knew that he had to touch him the way he did. He needed to feel if the skin in his face was just as smooth as the skin of his hands that have touched him every know and then while cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Thorin sighed and let his hand run over his face. He was doomed. Not only was he never able to return home to his sister and nephews, he also might fall in love with an infidel, a man from a wrong belief. He closed his eyes and fell in an uneasy sleep, exhausted from pain and fever.

* * *

Thorin slept the whole day and night. Bilbo regularly returned to his room to exchange the cold wet cloth on his forehead to bring the fever down until he too fell asleep on the chair next to Thorin's bed, head resting on it.

The taller man woke the next day to the smell of breakfast, his stomach rumbling from hunger. He tried to sit up and groaned loudly while doing that. Thorin sat himself on the edge of the bed and breathed the pain and slight nausea away. He let his head fall, cursed at the pain that shot trough him while doing that and sighed. Why had the infidel saved him? Him, a cripple and nuisance.

“Oh, I thought I heard something. Good morning, Thorin. You look so much better than yesterday. And the fever has broken, luckily. I don't think that another day of fever would have been good in your condition. Do you think you can eat something? I made a light broth for you.” Bilbo had entered the room with a bowl of delicious smelling broth which he handed to Thorin.

“ _Thank you, Beelbow.”_ He took the bowl out of Bilbo's hands and smiled at him. Bilbo returned the smile.

“At you service.”

“ _I wish I knew how to understand you. To somehow hear the words you say and know what you are trying to tell me. They must be beautiful words, indeed, if they came from such a beautiful mouth.”_

“I don't have the slightest idea what you wanted to tell me, but you should eat your broth. It gets cold. I fetch my bowl and eat with you, do you approve of that? Ah, you don't understand me anyway. I'll be right back.”

Bilbo touched Thorin's arm and left the room, leaving Thorin staring at his arm as if he couldn't believe that Bilbo had just touched him.

* * *

The days were passing and Thorin felt better with each one. He even tried to stand up as he woke early one morning and limped to the window, looking out of it. Thorin never had noticed the last days he had spent in this room that they looked to the east. Dawn was just approaching and everything felt so peaceful. The time was perfect to fulfil his long neglected duties as a pious Muslim.

Thorin stepped to the washbowl and cleaned his face and his hands to the elbow before he let a bit of water rum over his head and bowed down groaning to wash his feet. He then lifted his hands and closed his eyes. Remembering the words he had learned as soon as he was able to speak he started to recite the words and movements he knew by heart.

Deep in his prayer he didn't notice that he started to get louder and even the whimper of pain when he was kneeling down and bowing mixed in his words. Thorin didn't even notice that Bilbo was awake and standing in his doorway, looking deeply concerned.

“What do you think you are doing? Stand up you fool. You will reopen you wounds.” 

Bilbo grabbed Thorin by his arms and tried to haul him up but he wasn't successful with that. Thorin shook him off like an annoying fly and looked growling at him.

“ _You dare disturb my prayer? An infidel like you has no right to disturb a Muslim in his duties to God. You made me impure again and I have to start from the beginning. Leave. This. Room. Now. Or I will forget myself completely.”_

Bilbo wanted to say something and put his hand on Thorin's arm.

“ _Be still. Do not bewitch me with your angelic voice and leave me with my prayer.”_ He pushed Bilbo off him and out of the door before he slammed the door shut behind him. Then he let himself fall on his bed, held his side and sighed heavily. What had he done? He had again knocked somebody off him who was dear to him. If his sister could see him now she would wash his head and tell him her piece. Then she would hug him and tell him to go after the person he'd hurt.

Thorin laid on his bed and put his hand over his eyes. What was this infidel doing to him? Why did he matter so much? He sat up again, groaning from pain. Perhaps praying hadn't been such a good idea after all? He rose and limped to the window again, as he had done what seemed like hours ago. The sun had risen completely, basking the garden in the light only the mornings could achieve. It looked beautiful and with a bit care it would soon be even more. Thorin frowned. When had he started to like gardens? His sister teased him back home endlessly that he couldn't tell apart a citron from a rhubarb. But here … the garden seemed so peaceful and like a good place to linger.

As he dwelt on his thoughts he saw something moving in the garden in the corner of his eye. Thorin turned his head sharply and inhaled because pain was shooting through his neck. As the first wave stagnated he turned his head carefully and looked more precisely in the direction where he had seen the movement. Between cypresses and cedars sat Bilbo, looking absolutely horrible and lost. It broke Thorin's heart to see him like that. It was his fault. He watched Bilbo a good while and then decided to go out on the garden. They may not be able to understand each other, but he hoped the other would understand what he wanted to say.

So Thorin limped and hobbled through the house and out to the garden, searching for Bilbo as he came out on totally different part of the house from where his room was located. It took him a moment to spot him but when he did he walked – actually limped – over to the small man.

Bilbo was deep in thoughts and didn't notice Thorin approaching him.

“ _Beelbow.”_

Bilbo lifted his eyes which widened. He turned around and hid his head in the crooks of his arms. “Leave me alone, Thorin. I'm sure you don't want to have anything to do with a whining coward.”

Thorin sighed, shrugged his shoulders for he did not understand the other and sat groaning down next to him. He reached out to Bilbo, hesitated a moment but then put his hand on Bilbo's arm. The other one flinched lightly, but didn't shrug Thorin's arm off. As he began to speak, Thorin tried to put as much carefulness in his voice as it was possible to him.

“ _Beelbow, I am not good with words, I never have been. But … I … I was not nice to you this morning. I apologize for that. So … if you want you can accept my apology. If not I will leave within the day and not bother you anymore.”_

He let his head hang down, which caused his neck to hurt, but he didn't hiss or show his hurt in any way. Unnoticed to him Bilbo had turned and taken Thorin's hands in his.

“I don't know what you were saying, but it sounded rueful.” Bilbo touched Thorin's cheek and made him look at him. He smiled shortly at the other man, but then looked sad again. “Look, I really do want to understand you. There has to be a way to communicate. It is very sad that I can't really speak to you. I feel so alone in this land.”

Thorin couldn't stand the sight of Bilbo looking sad gloomy. So he put his arms around the smaller man and hugged him tightly.

“ _I want to understand you Beelbow. I want to know what you are saying. I don't want you to look sad anymore.”_

He got an idea. How did children learn to speak? They first spoke easy sentences. Short sentences When he would do that too and point at the thing he was speaking off, would Bilbo understand that? He tapped Bilbo lightly on the arm.

“ _Beelbow very sad?”_

Bilbo looked questioning at him and Thorin repeated his question a few times, mimicking looking sad or crying. Bilbo's eyes widened as he realized what Thorin was trying to do.

He shook his had. “No, Bilbo not sad. Thorin hurt?” Bilbo pointed at his wounds and made a face twisted with pain.”

“ _No.”_

Bilbo gave a high, clear laugh which made Thorin laugh too. “We may be able to understand each other, Thorin. That is the best news today.” He laughed even more and hugged Thorin, carefully not to hurt his wounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the delay. I wanted to have this finished a week ago but then my awful back didn't let me. Anyway, I hope you liked the second chapter, which was more or less a filler, and stay tuned for the third, who will show us a little part of the mean political plot ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Dwalin entered the palace, cape billowing behind him. His heavy steps echoed from the walls. He was angry, very angry. The Guard still couldn't believe that Thorin, the King and Cousin he has pledged his allegiance too, has fled the battlefield like a coward and had deserted. And yet still another search for him has led to nothing. Neither did they find a corpse on the battlefield nor has anybody near that battlefield seen a man that matched Thorin's description. Dwalin had to speak to the Lady Dis about that. Foaming he came to a halt right in front of the audience chamber and collected himself. His Lady, the woman that was close to him like a sister, didn't have to see his rage. He let one of the soldiers that stood guard open the door for him and entered.

“I bid you welcome, my Lady. I have to report ...” Dawlin looked around. Except for Dain and his advisors he could see nobody in the room.

“Where is the Lady Dis? Where is My Princess?” Dain rose and drew closer to Dwalin.

“Dwalin. The Lady Dis has decided to retreat into the harem. She took my youngest with her so that she could nurse him properly there and perform her duties as _Valide Sultan_.” 

“She did? Well, then I will see her there.” He turned on his heel and wanted do leave the room.

“Dwalin?”

“Yes, My … Lord?” 

“I want you to stop looking for Thorin. He deserted. He wasn't fit to rule anyway.”

“Don't speak that disrespectful of Thorin again. He was a good King, an admired King.” Dwalin left the room without looking back at Dain again.

Dain turned to one of his guards. “Observe him. Carefully. Watch every step of him. And if he leaves again to search for Thorin, kill him.” The guard nodded and left the room, not without bowing deeply to his lord.

Dwalin hurried to the Harem. Something was foul, very foul. As he was a loyal guard to the Royal Family he had no difficulties to enter and to bore his way into the heart of the Harem.

He bowed deeply to Dis and waited until he was spoken to.

“Dwalin. What brings you to me?”

“I was searching for Thorin and ...”

“Stop, Dwalin. Stop. No more word of Thorin. He is dead and has been given all honours of a fallen King. Fili has succeeded him and I support and guide him as Queen Regent.”

“Do you now? Do you act as Queen Regent from out of the Harem?”

“Dain says it is safer here for me.”

“Indeed?” Dwalin raised one eyebrow. “Safer from what? For Dain to gain more influence? If so, yes. Where is the Princess that ran around in trousers and learned to fight and fend for herself next to her brothers? Where is the Princess that strode onto the battlefield with a youngling on her hand and a babe on her breast? Where is that woman?”

“Enough!” Dis rose and glared at Dwalin.”Leave now. And do neither speak of Thorin again nor search for him. Are we understood. My brothers are both dead, I am the last of my line. My sons will grow into fine Kings and I will gladly see them do so.”

Dwalin looked at Dis angrily. He didn't understand why she was acting like that. “I'll take my leave. Farewell, My Lady.” The Princess nodded and watched Dwalin approaching the exit. “Dwalin!”

He turned and watched Dis running to him. She downright fell into his arms and hugged him like a drowning man.

“Be careful.” She whispered into his ear. “You are the only brother I have left.”

She let go of Dwalin and looked at him. The guard smiled at her and let a finger run over her cheek. “I'll be careful, I promise, Princess.”

* * *

Bilbo entered Thorin's room, a few washed and folded tunics in his arms that he had found in the house. “Here, I think they'll fit you.” Thorin looked up from the book he was reading and looked questioningly at Bilbo.

The man ruffled his curls and looked embarrassed. “Ah, sorry. I forgot.” He held up the pile of clothes. “Tunics. For Thorin. Big enough.” Bilbo gestured and hoped Thorin would understand. After a while the Saracen smiled and nodded. “Will fit. Thank you, Beelbow.” Bilbo laughed and put the tunics on a drawer. “I will make food. I'll call for you.”

Thorin watched Bilbo as he left the room. Why was this Infidel making him feel so happy and content? Like it belonged and was meant the way it was now? He rose, took off the tunic he was wearing and put on one of the tunics Bilbo had brought. The other man was right. They fit nearly perfectly. Groaning he bent down to put on his boots, shining from the treatment Bilbo had given them a good week prior. It had cost them both a great bit of patience to try to communicate but they eventually figured out a way that was suitable to either of them. They silently had agreed that they would use Bilbo's language as a mutual language, because Thorin knew already a few words of the language of the Conquerors. Balin insisted of him to know at least a few words in case they were at negotiations.

“Thorin?” He looked up. Bilbo was standing in the door, cheeks flushed from cooking. Dinner is ready. I put the food in the garden and …” At Thorin's confused look he paused. “Sorry. Food. Garden. Come with me, please?”

Thorin nodded. “Yes, will come. Hunger big. Beelbow lead.” Bilbo smiled at him and lead the way into the garden.

The small table outside was set with bowls and carafes and looked very inviting. Thorin sat down at the chair Bilbo had pulled out for him. They helped themselves with food and Thorin was hungry enough to immediately start shoving the food in his mouth. He stopped nevertheless as Bilbo cleared his throat. Thorin looked up over putting the spoon in his mouth and sat it down in an instant.

“Do you want to pray?”

“Pray?”

“Yes. Thank God for the food. Let god bless the food.” Thorin looked bewildered at Bilbo.

“Beelbow pray.” Bilbo smiled. He folded his hands, looked down at them and started praying.

* * *

A few days later, Thorin was getting better with each passing sunrise, Bilbo was sitting with the other man in peaceful quietness in the garden, the latter reading a book and the first writing down notes in an empty book he had found in one of the rooms.

Thorin was softly humming a tune while he was reading and Bilbo lost himself entirely in his writing and the soft tune. He didn't even notice that Thorin watched him and didn't read any longer.

“Beelbow writes wrong.”

“Excuse me?”

“You write wrong. Strange letters too.” Bilbo laughed.

“Then show me how you write.” He handed Thorin the quill and the book and encouraged him with a smile to do so. 

Thorin put the book comfortable onto his lap and began to write from the right in wide elegantly curved letters.

“What does that mean?” Thorin looked up and smiled.

“Beelbow.” Bilbo felt a blush raising up in his cheeks. He never had heard his name been spoken with such affection and … love?

“I … uhm … huh.” He took the quill again from Thorin's hand and started to write something right under his name.

“Meaning?”, Thorin asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

“Thorin.” He smiled and stroke lightly over Bilbo's hand who still held the quill. It was slightly trembling, which it had not done before. Then Thorin released Bilbo's hand and took the quill.

“Beelbow show things and Thorin write down in language of his.”

“Oh … well …” Bilbo looked around and then pointed at a tree next to them. “Here, the tree, what is it called?”

This went on for a while. Bilbo had eventually snuggled into Thorin's side, careful to not break up any of his wounds again. Thorin laid down the quill and the book and shifted a bit so that Bilbo could rest better against him.

“Do I hurt you?”

“Beelbow don't.”

“That's good.” Bilbo felt and sounded sleepy so he closed his eyes and inhaled Thorin's scent. It took a few breaths and he was deeply asleep. Thorin smiled and gently stroke Bilbo's hair. It shone like gold and was much finer that his thick mane.

“ _What do you wake inside me, infidel? I know, I know, your name is Bilbo, but it was the first I called you. I still don't understand why you helped me at the battlefield. I was ready to die, ready to abandon those I love the most. I wish you could meet them. My sister is the most fierce woman on earth and gave my father the headaches of his life. Then my sister-sons, my nephews, Fili and Kili. They are still little but they're one of their own. Fili is calm and observant while Kili, although still a suckling babe, has his own will and gets angry fast. Seems to take after my side of the family._

_I would give you the best rooms in the palace. You and your kind heart deserve the best. No, the best isn't even good enough for you. I would humiliate myself by giving them to you. I would humiliate my god. And yours._

_What are you doing with me? I have feelings for you that I dare not to feel. I am a Muslim and you are an Infidel, a Franc. It shall not be … but I can't find myself not to have feeling for you, to yearn for you.”_

Thorin sighed and stroke softly over Bilbo's cheeks, then let them softly dance to his nose, eyebrows, back to his nose and finally he encircled the lips, round and rosy. Bilbo sighed and puckered them lightly, leaving a feeling like Thorin's finger had just been kissed. His eyes fluttered and he looked at Thorin.

“I didn't understand what you were saying but it sounded wonderful.” 

Thorin drew back his hand as if it was burned.

“You awake.”

“Hmh, I only dozed.”

“Dozed?”

“Yes … slept only lightly.” Thorin nodded and took one of Bilbo's hands in his. He traced every finger and never let his eyes linger away from Bilbo's. Bilbo bit his lip and felt his breath taken away, even his heart beat faster so that it nearly jumped out of his chest. Then Thorin took his hand and placed soft kisses on the palm. He just could watch and try to get his heart beating at a normal rate again. Luckily, or not, Thorin let go of his hand. 

“I … need go inside.” He stood up and left Bilbo, who could only nod, to himself. Bilbo stared at Thorin's back as he retreated into the house. His eyes went deeper and he caught himself nearly leering at the Muslim's bottom. Bilbo immediately dropped his eyes and collected his book and the quill with shaking hands. It surely wasn't allowed to look at another man like that, even desiring his body. A man shall not lie with another man. It was forbidden.

* * *

Dwalin rested uneasily these days. Every time he recalled the things he was told about Thorin's desertion on the battlefield he could bring himself less to believe it. Thorin, his King and Commander, wasn't a coward who shied away from battle. It was indeed true that Thorin didn't want that war, but he was raised that he had to do what had to be done. These … Francs were none to reason with and the only solution to prevent Thorin's city from being invaded had been war. They would not give their city to some Infidels who had no knowledge of the country they were in. They had seen what happened to other cities these barbarians had invaded. They killed everyone who didn't share their religious belief, may it be Muslims or Jews.

Thorin loathed killings because of the religious faith. He believed that everyone was equal even if they hadn't the same religion or the same standing. In front of God they were the same nevertheless.

So it made no sense to Dwalin why Thorin would desert and put the fate of his city into the hands of those who didn't share his opinion and criticized him for it.

After another night of lying awake he made a decision. Dwalin packed lightly, paid a stable boy to bring his horse for him a bit outside the palace and left right before dawn. He would search again for Thorin and he would find him. And if that was the last thing that he was doing.

Unbeknownst to him he was being watched despite his effort to not being detected. Dain stood with one of his lackeys on top of a minaret and watched him leaving in haste.

“Follow him. And do not let him come back.” The lackey bowed.

“I terrorised a King. A mere guard is nothing to me.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse why this is so late. I am deeply sorry for the delay.

“Thorin! Look! One of the trees grew apples!”

Bilbo came dashing through the bushes and came to an halt before Thorin, who was sitting next to the fountain, reading.

“Apples?” He looked up and marked the page with a string before shutting the book.

“Yes, here.” Bilbo gave Thorin one of the apples and sat down next to him, polishing his on the tunic he wore.

“They are so pretty red. I wonder how they taste.” The smaller man let himself fall unpretentious next to Thorin and bit into his apple, so as not to grimace a few seconds later and looking at it in disgust.

“This thing is inedible. The skin is leathery. What abomination of godforsaken fruit is this?”

Thorin had to laugh. This infidel was so funny. A pomegranate was not to be eaten by biting pieces from it. Bilbo pouted because of that, which made Thorin only laugh harder.

“Beelbow got knife?”

“Yes. Yes, here.” Bilbo looked confused at Thorin. What was the other about to do?

Thorin took the knife and cut the upper and under side off the fruit and suddenly there where little round kernels to see.

“What kind of apple is this?”

“This is pomegranate … _rumman._ How to say in your language … strange.”

“Strange?”

“I don't have word for it. It is … you do not think finding good things to eat in this skin.”

“Ah, I see. Surprising, perhaps? Or remarkable could be a word for it. Or … exalted. I understand what you want to say but I can't word it. Precious maybe.”

“I think precious is good. Fruit is precious to people like Beelbow is to Thorin.”

Bilbo blushed and looked to the ground. Then he looked up and smiled at Thorin.

Thorin coughed and attended to the fruit. He cut in the skin, reached for a near bowl and broke it in half. Inside Bilbo could see hundreds of small red seeds.

“What are those?”

“Beelbow eat this. Is sweet.” Thorin pulled the seeds out of the skin into the bowl which he handed to Bilbo.

“Try.” Bilbo took a few of the seeds and put them in his mouth. He grimaced again.

“This is weird.” Thorin laughed. “Let Thorin try other thing.” He then took his fruit and squeezed and pressed it in his hands and against the ground as Bilbo watched interested. 

“Beelbow look, fruit is soft and mushy. Now I put hole in it. Here, drink juice.

Bilbo took the fruit from out of Thorin's hands and raised it to his lips. He took a sip and smiled.

“This is good. Sweet and bitter at once. I like it.” Bilbo put the fruit to his lips again and drank from it. As he lowered it again a bit of juice dripped from his chin. Thorin couldn't bring his eyes away from that sight. Bilbo's lips where slightly red from the juice and his eyes were sparkling from happiness and excitement.

“You want to have some juice too, Thorin?” He raised the fruit up to Thorin and looked expectantly at him. Thorin took the fruit from out of his hand and put it into the bowl, never looking away from Bilbo. Bilbo tilted his head slightly and looked at Thorin, blinking.

“Thorin … wh-”

“Shhhh, no talk.” Thorin laid his thumb on Bilbo's lips and traced them carefully, as if they were the most important thing in the world. Bilbo felt his breath hitching and had to force himself to not forget about it. The other man let his thumb circle around Bilbo's lips, down to his chin and wiped the juice from it before putting Bilbo's chin between thumb and index finger, pulling Bilbo up to him and closing his eyes slowly. Just a little bit more … 

Bilbo then suddenly jumped up. “I … I … dinner. Yes, I have to make dinner.” He gathered his things together and downright fled into the house, leaving Thorin perplexed behind.

* * *

Dwalin had already ridden through the desert the better part of the week, stopping at every oasis and abandoned settlement and looking there for Thorin, upturning every oh so little stone in search for his King. He was so concentrated on his search the he hadn't noticed the assassin that was following him.

At sunset on the sixth day of his search Dwalin reached the village, not far from where the battle has happened. For one reason or the other he hadn't already looked there. Since it already got dark, Dwalin decided that he would seek shelter in one of the abandoned houses and look in the morning if there was somebody left in this godforsaken town. He had a strange feeling as he entered the walls and therefore didn't light a fire. Dried meat would have to do as dinner. As Dwalin was about to fall asleep he could have sworn that he had heard voices and smelt delicious roasted meat. But it could have been his imagination playing games.

* * *

Bilbo hardly slept this night. Has Thorin really tried to kiss him? Did the other possibly return his feelings? He sighed and turned for the thousandth time. He rose as soon as the sky turned pinkish and started to make breakfast to sort out his forbidden thoughts. To make matters worse he had promised Thorin to help him take a bath, because the other still needed help in entering the tub and reaching some parts of his body. Bilbo was deeply lost in his thoughts and didn't notice Thorin entering the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Beelbow.” Bilbo jumped and nearly spilled the water he was about to put in the kettle to make tea.

“G-good morning. I … well. There's already bread and jam. Tea is ready soon.”

Thorin nodded and sat down, groaning a bit. “Beelbow help Thorin bathe today?”

“I promised, haven't I? Now, here's breakfast. But carefully, the bread is still warm.” Thorin took bread and jam and ate it dutifully. As Bilbo put the mug with tea in front of him he nodded thankfully and smiled a bit at the other man who sat down too to eat his breakfast. They ate in relatively comfortable silence and soon Bilbo started to look and smile at Thorin again. 

“I'll heat our water when we have finished breakfast. That is … if that is all right with you?”

“It is. I hope the wounds will not sting in the water.”

“I hope so too. But as I dressed them the last time they looked even better. You were gravely hurt. It's a small wonder you are still alive.”

“Thank to Beelbow.” Thorin smiled at Bilbo and took his hand. Bilbo let Thorin hold his hand for a good while, he even enjoyed it and had to admit that he clearly liked the jumps his heart made every time Thorin looked at him or spoke to him. He had never felt like that when he had touched lasses or even held their hands. Nevertheless these feelings were forbidden.

Bilbo rose, smiled and went into the house to prepare the bath. After he was sure the water had had the right temperature, he called Thorin to come in. As the other man entered the bathroom, Bilbo had to hold his breath. Thorin was only clothed in a towel, wrapped around his hips. Although he had seen the man already lightly clad, this time affected him like it had never affected him before. He helped Thorin into the tub and washed the skin around his wounds, carefully to not make them bleed again. All the time he didn't speak and tried to not look at certain parts of Thorin's body.

Bilbo was glad as he had helped Thorin out of the tub, wrapped a blanket around him and went to clean the tub. He would do everything to keep his body busy and to not think of Thorin and what he would do to him.

“Beelbow angry?”

He looked up. He had had tried to hide his feelings and state of mind. Usually he succeeded with that, why not with Thorin? Either he wasn't so good at hiding his feelings or the man was just very perceptive.

“No. I'm not angry. Not at you, that is.”

“Then at who? Beelbow tell Thorin and I kill person.” Now Bilbo had to laugh. “Then you would have to kill me.” Thorin looked confused at Bilbo. Bilbo smiled, hauled himself up and strode out of the small bathroom they were in. “Come, you need to dress. I will be in the garden, picking more of those fruits I found yesterday. They will rot if I let them hang.”

* * *

Dwalin had nearly searched every house in that damn village and had found nothing, although he was sure he had heard and smelled something last night. As he slinked around a corner, always aware of his surroundings, he saw a house he had not yet searched. He crept closer and could have sworn that he had seen one of the trees shaking and rustling. It might just be animals, but as he came closer to the entrance he could smell the odour of bakery.

There were people living in that house.

Dwalin looked around. As he had made sure that no one was guarding the house, he sneaked into it. Just as he was about to enter a room, he saw a man entering from a different entrance. He was small, overall rounded (Dwalin snorted at this) and had short and bouncy golden curls. He wore a green tunic, brown trousers and boots. But no weapons.

“Infidel.” Dwalin growled.

* * *

As he was done with picking the pomegranates and stocking them into the pantry, Bilbo went out into the garden. He had nothing else to do and it dreaded him. This means he had to speak to Thorin. Look at Thorin. Being near Thorin. He wasn't sure if his heart could take it.

It was better if Thorin got well soon and they both parted ways. Bilbo sighed. He wished there was a way he could explain the feelings he had to himself. Why had he fallen for a man? He asked God the same in his prayers and asked for a sign to show him if he was wrong or right in his doings, but nothing happened.

“Beelbow, are you alright?”

“Yes, yes I am. I'm just ...” Bilbo looked at Thorin and had to hold his breath. The man had put on one of the light cream tunics with embroidery Bilbo had found a while back in the house. There was a light wind blowing through Thorin's hair and the sun shone directly onto him. Bilbo swallowed and bit his lips. Thorin came closer.

“Don't look alright.” With two big, although slightly wobbly steps, Thorin crossed the distance between them. He looked gently at Bilbo and smiled.

“Beelbow worries too much.”

“Yes! And it is entirely your fault! You make me think inappropriate thoughts! And I hate myself for them!”

“Beelbow ...”

“Oh stop that. Stop calling me by my name and making it sound so soft and … and round with your lovely accent. Like it was the most precious thing to you. This is just not fair at all!”

“What is Beelbow speaking of?”

“I fell in love with you! Is that so hard to understand? I … I have no idea what is happening with me! I want to kiss you! I want to kiss your lips, I want to kiss your neck, your chest, your wounds! But … I can't”

“Why?”

“It's … It's forbidden. A man cannot lie with another man.”

“Does your god say so?”

Bilbo nodded and lowered his eyes. He had to look up again as Thorin laid a finger under his chin and made him look at him.

“Mine doesn't.”

With that he bent down a bit, closed his eyes and kissed Bilbo so softly and tenderly that his legs gave in and he was just supported by Thorin's arm around him. Bilbo buried his hands in Thorin's hair and deepened the kiss, putting all the despair and angst in it he had felt the last weeks. Bilbo knew it was wrong, but the longing had gotten too unbearable. And if something wrong was to feel so good, well, then he would take all blame onto him for giving into a sin.

Thorin let Bilbo and himself sink into the grass, hugging him tightly and kissing the other man intensely. Bilbo didn't remove his hands out of Thorin's hair. It pulled a bit, but never had pulling on his hair felt so right and it didn't hurt at all. Bilbo made little sighing noises in between their kisses and Thorin made sure he answered everyone with even more kisses. Thorin kissed Bilbo's lips, nose, cheeks, eyes, neck and Bilbo made sure he did the same with Thorin.

They could have gone on with that forever, had not Bilbo been pulled from Thorin.

“ _Get off my King!”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to be updated on news concerning this story or want to know that a new chapter is up, please follow me [ on my blog](http://loyalty-honour-a-willing-heart.tumblr.com/). The tag for Infidel there is [ Crusaders AU](http://loyalty-honour-a-willing-heart.tumblr.com/tagged/Crusaders-AU/) resp. [ Infidel](http://loyalty-honour-a-willing-heart.tumblr.com/tagged/Infidel/).


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